Page 5 of Flirt Like A Pin-Up

“Is there something going on between you and Latham?” I can’t believe I’m voicing the insane jealousy bubbling in my chest.

“That’s crazy.” She laughs, which only pisses me off more. “Or is it?”

“Don’t fuck with me, Margot.” I push myself back, letting her go so she can turn to face me. It’s either that, or I yank up her skirt and thrust my cock inside her right here and now.

She smoothes down her blouse and fluffs her hair. “There’s nothing between me and Mr. Latham. Can I go to work now?”

I run my hand down my face, taking several more steps back. I’ve got to get it together before I cross a line that could get me arrested or sued. “Brooklyn shared her and Coulter’s calendars with me, so I need to share them with you. Then we need to go over my week. Get yourself situated, and I’ll be out there in two minutes.”

She stares at me for half a second longer than necessary, as if she’s trying to figure out exactly what is going on in my head. That’s a dangerous game for her to play when I’m not sure myself. I’ve never wanted a woman like this before, and I’ve never felt this possessive rage course through my veins, either.

Maybe the nine months of stolen kisses have finally sent me spiraling over the edge of insanity?

“How do you take your coffee?” She motions to the two forgotten cups on the table, easily accepting the change of topics.

“Black.”

She hands me one. “Then this one is for you.”

“Thanks.” I accept the paper cup, watching as she opens the door and walks to Brooklyn’s desk—her desk for the next three weeks. Her hips don’t sway like they normally do for me, which tells me she’s toning it down.

Did I scare her? I hope not. The last thing I want is for her to be scared of me or her feelings. Normally, I want her to embrace them, but maybe both of us toning it down is for the best—at least for the foreseeable future.

I go back to my computer and bring up my calendar, sharing it with Margot, intent on trying to be somewhat professional for the next few weeks until my brother comes back. Then, once our office is set back to normal, there is nothing I won’t do to make Margot Talbot mine.

3

MARGOT

Being Camden’s assistant is easier than I thought it would be. He’s worked so long without support that, for the most part, he takes care of himself. I actually feel bad, considering many of his tasks could easily be accomplished by Brooklyn, Sabine, or myself.

And honestly, they should be. His time is too valuable to schedule his own meetings. It’s almost like he doesn’t realize how important or successful he is.

Prior to working beside him this week, I would’ve said he’s the most arrogant man I’ve ever met.

Now, I’m thinking he’s only an egotistical ass with me.

Things between us have been quiet since Camden’s outburst Monday morning. So much so, I’m finding his lack of attention somewhat offensive. He’s never shown me a jealous side before, and while his actions would be huge red flags from any other man, I found his possessiveness—no matter how inappropriate—hot as fuck. When he pressed me up against the door—pinning me with his body while he hissed in my ear—my pussy clenched in anticipation of what should have come next.

And I find myself wanting more of that kind of attention.

He wasn’t wrong when he said there’s a difference between flirting and being a cock tease—even though I hate that word when it comes off any other man’s lips. My normal flirting—the way I’ve gotten by most of my life—isn’t what I do with Camden, not since that first night at his brother’s house. Of course, he’d caught my eye around the office before that. Who wouldn’t look twice at a well-built man with a boyish, charismatic smile?

Maybe I was working to grab his attention all along by bending over whenever he walked into the office, or adjusting my top and pulling the bodice low to flash a hint or more of cleavage?

Or maybe I’m a victim of that age-old mentality—you always want what you can’t have?

Camden walks in a few minutes late this morning, his eyes glued to his phone. “Everything set for the luncheon today?”

I don’t say anything, waiting until he takes his eyes off the damn screen and puts them on me where they belong.

Quirking his brow, he stops short of his office and turns back to face me. “Are you not talking to me today?”

I stand up—making a show of smoothing down my hip-hugging pencil skirt—and grab his black coffee off my desk. Offering it to him, I smile. “Yes, Mr. Manning. Everything is set for the luncheon. Which means the restaurant is confirmed since you kept everything else to yourself and haven’t tasked me with any other details.”

He accepts the coffee, his brow furrowed as his gaze takes me in. I’d be dissuaded if I didn’t catch the way his eyes heated and nostrils flared before he masked both of them. Cues to his desire for me, once given so easily, he now hides. I should applaud his professionalism, but I liked it better when he was chasing me.

“You have enough to do, Ms. Talbot. Besides, if I can take care of it, why wouldn’t I?”

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